Curse of the Lycan
by Katty008
Summary: Alternate Title: Hershel Layton is an Enormous Idiot and I Have No Idea How He's Still Alive, by Clark Triton. Things always get extra complicated for Hershel during that time of the lunar cycle. At least the Tritons are willing to put up with him.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton._

_One of the things I noticed upon joining this fandom is that there is a surprising amount of werewolf fanart, but no werewolf fic that I can find. I decided to rectify this ;)_

* * *

He doesn't leave Stansbury because he fears Randall dead. His research tells him otherwise, if it can even be called research. Folklore, superstition, old wives' tales... things he'd never put much stock into before. But the emaciated, tailless wolf that had surprised them in the ruins, the torn sheets, the fatigue, the hazy memories...

Some things have to be seen to be believed. And Hershel has seen them. So no, he doesn't leave Stansbury because he fears Randall dead. He leaves Stansbury because he fears what kind of not dead Randall might be.

* * *

The roommate is a problem. Living in the dorm itself is a problem, and he doesn't know how to deal with it in a desirable manner. He tries a different abandoned urban hole every time, but he inevitably ends up dragging himself shaking and dirty and guilty back to the dorm to have a nervous breakdown in the shower.

The fifth time is different. The fifth time he is just feeling it start to come on when he hears his roommate call out. "Layton? Are you in here?"

He is already not thinking straight when he shouts, "Get away!" The words he chose in his panic have the opposite of the desired effect as Triton comes running into view. "No Triton, get away!" he shouts again but it comes out as an animalistic growl as the transformation takes hold, and it hurts, _it hurts-_

Hershel is sobbing apologies in his head because Triton doesn't deserve this, _no one_ deserves this, when something miraculous happens. Triton makes gentle, calming noises, and the wolf actually hesitates, giving a second thought to the idea of mauling the person in front of him. With more words second thoughts become third, and somehow they end up spending the night with Triton gently stroking his fur and continuing to work whatever voodoo it is he is in possession of.

With the morning comes explanations, and from that point on the werewolf and his whisperer are inseparable, at least until Brenda comes into Clark's picture and Hershel starts living on his own.

* * *

Clark wants to tell Luke, 'just in case'. Hershel refuses. Clark wants Luke to be forewarned so that if the need arises he can do for Hershel what Clark once did. But what ifs work both ways, and Hershel will _not_ be putting Luke in that kind of danger. Clark argues that _obviously_ he wasn't saying they just throw Luke into it, they can do a trial run with Clark there if things go pear-shaped. Hershel still refuses. The quietly heated arguments run long and hard after the Tritons move back to London. It takes months for Clark to give up aside from the occasional comment when they're alone.

Hershel doesn't want to admit that he's afraid of the idea of a ten-year-old with his secret. However he's forced to admit that there was something in what Clark was saying when he runs off to Monte d'Or with barely a second thought for the lunar calendar. Angela writing to him suddenly had made him think of Randall, and so the thoughts he did have all started with the words _If Randall_.

It was too late now of course. Hershel wasn't letting the wolf anywhere _near_ Luke without Clark there, so he sends Luke and Emmy back to the hotel and drives into the desert. He abandons the Laytonmobile when he feels the change coming on and simply hopes that he isn't completely lost come sunrise.

When he staggers back into the hotel Emmy gives him a look which clearly implies she is under the impression that he has spent the night very much _not_ being a gentleman, which is true, but not in the way she thinks. He does his best not to grin like an idiot as he bandages his various injuries in the bathroom, because the wolf he fought with that night had reddish fur of a familiar hue.

On the way back to London he tells himself that this won't happen again and when Clark confronts him he tells him that he managed just fine on his own thank you very much.

* * *

Becoming Flora's guardian complicates things. Good thing Hershel has lots of practice dealing with complicated things.

(Yes Clark he can handle this he doesn't need to tell anyone everything is _just fine_. Clark pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in exasperation. Hershel wouldn't be surprised if he's told Luke and that Luke is under orders not to let on that he knows.)

* * *

He wouldn't say he's become _skilled_ at it, but there are things he can do now that he couldn't do in the beginning. He can assert his willpower over the wolf, hold it off, not indefinitely but long enough to get somewhere safe if he's caught unawares.

He knows there isn't enough time, that it's madness to even consider it, but Celeste is right; Clive isn't the only one to blame. So he banks around close enough for her to jump and flies away from the war machine. Upon landing a safe distance he stops just long enough for everyone to disembark before he's off again. He's barely holding on to his humanity during the second circuit, and he's sure Celeste notices that something is wrong with him.

The Laytonmobile comes to a less than graceful landing and he flings himself from it, staggering away from the crowd. In the background he can hear confused people shouting after him but it doesn't register; all he thinks is _away away must get away safe secret away_.

He collapses on the filthy ground of an alleyway, grunting in pain. "Hershel!" Celeste cries out, running after him. It's too late to tell her to go away, too late, he'll hurt her, he'll hurt _Claire_, no not Claire, _yes _Claire, smells of Claire, Claire, impossibly_ Claire_. The wolf lets out a low whine and Claire fearlessly embraces him, twisting her fingers in his fur. He rubs against her, licks her, bathing in her scent and covering her with his.

Luke interrupts the moment, shouting out, "Professor!" as he runs into the alley. He skids to a stop at the sight before him and the wolf lets out a low, warning growl. "Nice doggy..." Luke says hesitantly, and the growl tapers off. A step forward and the wolf starts growling again, baring teeth. Luke steps back again and the wolf goes back to focusing on Claire, though he keeps an eye on the intruder.

Claire smells different now though, bad, _wrong_. "Goodbye, Hershel," Claire says, lightly pressing her lips to his head. The wolf whines, bad smell, bad wrong _bad_ smell. "I'll always remember you, and our unwound future."

Claire stands, and walks away into the darkness. The bad smell gets stronger, and then dissipates. The wolf lets out a long, mournful howl.

"Professor...?" Luke asks hesitantly. He approaches slowly as the wolf continues to howl, until finally he's got his arms around the crying wolf, stroking his fur and not saying anything.

Hershel thinks that maybe it's going to be okay, maybe he'll manage tonight, but then Inspector Chelmey interrupts with a, "What in blazes is that racket?" and Bill Hawks isn't far behind, and the wolf loses all sense when he sees the Prime Minister. Claire, hurt Claire, _took Claire_, must pay, hurt maim _kill_ the bird man, and before anyone can react the wolf is leaping for the Prime Minister's throat-

There's a sudden, ear-piercing noise coupled with the burn of lead as the impact of Inspector Chelmey's bullet throws the wolf off target and his teeth sink into Bill Hawks' arm instead. The taste of blood fills his mouth and the wolf revels in it, _protect the pack, revenge the pack_. Chelmey holds his gun steady but doesn't fire again, afraid of hitting the Prime Minister. The wolf is about to go in for the kill when he is interrupted.

"No! This isn't what Claire would want!" Luke shouts, and it pierces the wolf's mind. Instead of clamping down on the Prime Minister's neck, the wolf snaps at him and growls before running. Chelmey fires at the retreating beast, hitting him a second time as Luke tells him to stop and tries running after him, but no one can catch the wolf now.

* * *

The morning finds him curled up in a hole under some rubble. He is sticky with blood, and he can see the trail he left on the way to his hiding place. He doubts anyone will take any particular note of it; London had been all but bathed in blood the night before. He shifts with the idea of crawling out, but immediately regrets it as a wave of pain washes over him. He focuses on breathing, and when the pain has changed back to more manageable levels he starts thinking about moving again. He wonders if he can, then realizes he must, but he doesn't even make half a meter before he feels something give and there is a warm dribbling sensation.

Hershel is, for the moment, only human, and passes out.

* * *

When he comes to, Luke has somehow managed to fit into the hole with him. He's trying to move him gently, but not being too successful at it. "Luke," Hershel says, and Luke looks at his face, eyes lighting up.

"Dad, he's awake!" Luke exclaims.

"Hershel?" Clark's voice comes from the entrance to the hole. Hershel twists his head to see the elder Triton looking in worriedly.

"Clark? What're you-" Hershel slurs out before he's interrupted.

"Hershel, we need to get you out of there but I can't fit in there with you and Luke can't do it himself." Clark held his hand out. "I just need to get close enough to grab my hand. Luke will help."

Hershel nods his understanding, and takes stock. He had been roughly bandaged with torn fabric, presumably by Luke, who has also managed to shift him into a better position for crawling out. He breathes deeply and braces himself.

It feels like an eternity, but somehow he gets out of the rubble. Clark throws a blanket around his shoulders and helps him lie down on the back seat of his automobile. Luke climbs in with him and crouches down on the floor, placing a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. The drive back to the Triton house goes by in a haze, Clark driving slowly through the ruined city streets.

Somehow he ends up in the Triton's spare bedroom with Luke sitting next to the bed looking uncomfortable and Clark and Brenda arguing on the other side of the closed door.

"We can't take him to the hospital, how would we explain it?"

"Clark, I'm a _veterinarian._ This isn't my area of expertise!"

"Get them," Hershel tells Luke, who complies quickly.

"Hershel-" Clark starts.

"Stop it. 'M turning myself in."

"No you're not," Clark objects.

"Attacked the Prime Minister. Going to kill him."

"But you didn't, and you are not turning yourself in. Do you think they'd even believe you?"

"Too much bother. Turn myself in and hospital."

Clark gives Brenda a pleading look. "Men!" she rolls her eyes, and leaves to get her equipment bag.

Clark waves a finger at Hershel. "You will not turn yourself in because that would make us all accomplices after the fact, so there."

Hershel would argue more, but his blood-loss addled mind decides that enough is enough.

* * *

Shortly after the next full moon, Bill Hawks resigns from his post of Prime Minister, citing the recent scandals, personal reasons, and a desire to retire to the quiet country life.

* * *

_According to some beliefs, if you don't destroy a werewolf's body they come back as undead vampire wolf things. That's what that bit about Randall at the beginning was about._


End file.
